


Though I Saw It Comin' Undone

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Breakout Kings
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, Dom/sub, M/M, POV Male Character, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 19:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie and Ray are partners, and Charlie's got a few problems with Ray's methods, but the way Ray sees it, Charlie can get over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though I Saw It Comin' Undone

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought maybe a few of you needed convincing on why you should watch this show with me. There aren't any spoilers for the pilot ep. *facepalms* I can't believe I wrote fic when the only canon right now is the pilot.
> 
> The title is a lyric in "Love, Love, Love" by Tristan Prettyman.

"What did I tell you?"

"The perp was—"

Ray flinches when Charlie slaps the desk. That's gotta hurt, but Charlie doesn't do the hand-waving, ow, ow, ow thing, doesn't break out of that furious scowl that's all aimed in Ray's direction and makes Ray's gut clench. The stick must be shoved far and deep. "What did I fucking tell you, Ray?"

"To stand down," Ray says, and he doesn't like how he sounds like his little girl, lookin' off and away, all petulant apology. It's not the same, though. Catching the bad guys is their job, and Ray _knows_ how to catch bad guys. If Charlie would just freakin' listen once in a while, let him do his job, the job he's good at— The entire thought jumps the track when Charlie stalks forward, looming over Ray like he's nothin' but a low-level con, and Ray. He's not that. He's not gonna get backed into the wall behind him, because he's a good guy, one of the best. One mistake doesn't change that. "Look, Charlie—"

" _Don't_ interrupt me—"

"Wouldn't have to if you'd just—"

Charlie smacks the wall next to Ray's head, and Ray's not tryin' to flinch but the crack of Charlie's palm that close stops him cold, the sound reverberating in his ear like he's the one that got smacked. Shit. There's no way this is happenin'. No fuckin' way right now.

"You got a couple of options, Ray." His name is all twisted and wrong on Charlie's tongue. All of Charlie's anger is in that one syllable, intent and aimed like a gun, and Ray's on the other side of it, starin' down Charlie's furious-calm stare. Must be a Marine Corps thing, all pent up violence, banked and loaded. Ray's kindamaybe got a thing for guys like that. "You can shut up or I can _make_ you shut up."

Kindamaybeyes does, so Ray, yeah, what he does is push. "Go back to your des—" The last word doesn't quite make it out of Ray's mouth.

His breath leaves his lungs in one whoosh of air and the spark of pain. Jesus. That don't come 'til after, spreading electric and hot across Ray's back when he's shoved against the wall. It's more pointed at the back of his skull when his head ricochets, and he's pissed, because he's gotta be, because he doesn't do easy, and Charlie. There's no way he's ready for that struggle yet, no way he's ever gonna be ready. Plus, Charlie's taller, but Ray's built from workin' the field, not lazin' around behind a desk while the real party is happening outside. The only window Ray looks out of daily is the one in his car, and Charlie ought to respect that. Ray's got _experience_ , damn it, and all Charlie's got are reports.

"What's your"—Safeword, Ray's brain supplies, and what? No. Not gonna happen, but he's leapin' ahead of the reel, 'cause that's not Charlie's question at all—"problem?" Whoa. Got a back up. "Huh? You got issue with me?"

And it takes a couple of seconds for Ray to catch up, because yeah, that's his dick twitching in his pants from the way Charlie's knuckles dig into his chest, bunching up one of the few good shirts he's got. Been a freakin' problem all day with the way Charlie keeps diggin' at Ray, keeps pokin' and proddin' where he don't belong, giving orders like it's his God-given right. Ray's not gonna admit how he's been buckling beneath them, how he wants to buckle under Charlie, get put down the way Charlie's been itchin' all day to—

"Huh?" Charlie asks again, punctuating it with a good shake that's rockin' all the protest out of Ray, and Ray's gotta do somethin' _that doesn't include_ going to his knees for this desk jockey playin' cop. And that right there is what he needs.

So _yeah, I do, you fuckin' desk jockey_ , is what Ray has all planned out in his head, but his eyes are sliding down and to the right as a quiet, "No," comes out of his mouth. Charlie lets him go, too soon, and Ray's doing his damnedest not to stumble forward, get those hands back in his shirt. He doesn't like it much anyway. Ugly color. Charlie can rip it all up. "Just—" Ray silently curses, lets a long string of some filthy phrases loose in his head. It's all he can do since Charlie won't— Nuh-uh, _can't_. Ray wouldn't even let him if they were— But they're not, so. "You gotta trust me, Charlie. I know what I'm doin' here."

Charlie's quiet too long, and Ray doesn't want to, but he's gotta. He looks, but Charlie's not pent up rage anymore. He's focused, yeah, but distant, like he's thinkin', breakin' things apart in his head all quiet-like. Ray doesn't want to keep that expression locked in his memory for later, but it's slotting in neat and solid. Clicks into place. His pants are way past _a_ problem and now _the_ problem, and it's time to wrap this hog up.

"Yeah, okay," Charlie says, and Ray slumps with relief, didn't even notice the tension 'til his body let it go all in one breath out. "Fair enough, _but_ —" Ray tightens up again, squares his shoulders back and looks at Charlie. _Do it_ , he thinks. _Make me._ "We're partners, and I'm not gonna put up with your shit, Ray."

Ray ignores the way that makes pleasure coil like a python in his gut. He's not gonna confuse Charlie's intent stare for a promise. Work partners, not _that_ kinda partners. "Yeah, I get it." At least he's got control of his mouth again, so he grins, a little upturn like he does when he's tellin' a joke. "So you wanna finish the paperwork on this?"

The corner of Charlie's mouth quirks, and he slugs Ray's right shoulder. Nothin' serious, little love ta—Not a love tap. All buddy-buddy tap. Work partners tap. No freakin' way tap. Those kinds. The safe kinds. The ones that don't require other things. Like negotiations and stuff. Who the hell is he tryin' to convince in here?

"I'm going home."

"Right." Ray nods. "To the missus."

Charlie's smile turns soft around the edges as he nods. "Yeah." He looks at Ray, then, all gentle and calm. "Have a good one Ray."

Name's soft, too, wrapped up in fondness, but it's just leftovers from the wife. None of it's for Ray. Can't be. "Yeah, you, too." When Charlie turns around to grab his coat, Ray palms his dick, does a quick readjustment before Charlie's lookin' his way again. There. Fixed. Back to work.

"Tomorrow." Charlie points, and that readjustment was a waste of Ray's freakin' time. "Early."

Ray nods and flashes a quick smile, tries to be casual about it, like maybe he will, maybe he won't.

" _Early_ ," Charlie repeats, his expression hardening, all command, all no arguments here, _do it_.

Yeah, yeah, okay. Don't mean nothin' anyway. "I'll be here."


End file.
